


Makes A Difference, When It's You

by Ghostinthehouse



Series: Demon and Angel Professors [97]
Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - Professors, Disabled Crowley (Good Omens), Gen, Implied/Referenced Abuse, intimidation tactics
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-23
Updated: 2020-06-23
Packaged: 2021-03-03 19:00:40
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 666
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24880465
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ghostinthehouse/pseuds/Ghostinthehouse
Summary: Crowley still kept an ear to the ground for rumours, but it wasn't as fun or relaxing as it used to be. Today, he couldn't even fade into the background to try.
Relationships: Aziraphale & Crowley (Good Omens), Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens)
Series: Demon and Angel Professors [97]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1412962
Comments: 69
Kudos: 1055
Collections: Aspec-friendly Good Omens





	Makes A Difference, When It's You

Crowley still kept an ear to the ground for rumours, but it wasn't as fun or relaxing as it used to be. Today, with that Paul gleefully holding forth on how Dr Fell wasn't the nice person he pretended to be so the rumours of him abusing Dr Crowley had to be true, he couldn't even fade into the background to try. Everyone's gaze was on him, searching for clues about the truth. It hurt that they'd think it true, and yet a sickening curl of warmth coiled in his gut at the thought of them wanting to protect him. He squashed the warmth, channeled the hurt into a glare that sent all the watching eyes back to their own business, and left.

* * *

Lucille hunched deeper into her hood and stared into the dregs of her coffee. Something was off about the rumours this year. They were entirely too neat, too similar. Usually, the rumours were a tangled net of natural speculation. Along similar lines, sure, but not identical like these. These felt almost - malicious. Almost - manufactured out of whole cloth. They didn't fit with anything else, and while that didn't mean they couldn't be true - she knew all too well how easily nastiness could be hidden in plain sight - it did make these rumours stick out. If it had been the person involved talking, she would have tried to believe them over her gut response, but it wasn't. These rumours, however they had started, framed the abuse as something "everyone knows". As an obvious, indisputable fact. And yet... Something needed to be done. Something to bring the truth, whatever it was, to light. She should probably start with the first year who seemed to have a grudge against Dr Fell of all people, and all because, apparently, he insisted on providing trigger warnings? What would Dr Crowley do? The answer was as instant as it was unhelpful. _Glare._ She was no Dr Crowley, with a glare and a reputation fit to scare everyone off when she needed to. She was just a final year History student, noticing things that nobody else seemed to be, and she had taken Dr Crowley's implicit permission and encouragement to trust her own conclusions to heart when she had been a first year herself.

Fine. What would Dr Crowley aim to achieve then? Cut the other student out of the crowd, give them that nudge towards what they needed? Like he had with her presentations? She threaded her way through the group and touched the first year lightly on the shoulder. "Walk with me a moment?" she asked, indicating the corridor with a tilt of her head, scarred cheek hidden in her hood. "I'd like a word."

* * *

Paul looked up at the tap on his shoulder. He'd thought he was finally getting somewhere after being shut down by so many of Dr Fell's sycophants. Even trying the online student community had only earned him a dozen or more variants on "you can't tell what people need by looking at them". It was an older student though, a nice enough looking girl, who wanted to talk. He pushed himself to his feet and followed her out. "What did you want?" he asked, leaning against the wall with false casualness. Hey it had worked for Dr Crowley, hadn't it?

She pushed back her hood revealing a scarred face. 

"Ugh. You might warn a guy..." he grumbled.

Her face tightened, distorting it still further. "But you don't like warnings," she said, her voice soft, almost silky. "You said so yourself. At length." She stepped forward, her foot coming down hard on his.

He flinched back, only to hit the wall. "That's different."

"Why? Scars are scars. Just because most people don't wear theirs on the outside, doesn't make them any different." She brought her other foot forward.

He took the warning and jerked  _his_ other foot out of her way.

She smirked. "See? Warnings do matter - when _you_ are the one being hurt."


End file.
